Alden’s brow shot up in disbelief. “Your uncle is Lord Inglewood?”
“He is,” Elinor confirmed. “Uncle Matthew inherited the title after my father died.”
Lowering their entwined hands, Alden said, “That means I should have been addressing you as Lady Elinor this whole time.”
“No,” Elinor responded firmly. “I left that life behind me when I refused to marry the duke. I am just Elinor now.”
“And your aunt allowed this?”
“Yes, she understood the reasons as to why I dropped my title,” Elinor responded. “I didn’t want my uncle to find me in Scotland.”
“Does your household staff know the truth?”
“Only Bryon knows who I truly am,” Elinor responded.
Alden didn’t know what to feel at this precise moment. Not only did Elinor outrank him, but she had also kept this significant part of her life from him.
The maid cleared her throat politely, reminding them that they were not alone. “My lady, your uncle is waiting for you.”
Elinor nodded in acknowledgement. “Please inform him I will be down in a moment.”
With a brief curtsy, the maid departed to do her bidding.
Turning back towards Alden, Elinor said, “You don’t have to come with me. I can do this on my own.”
“You can, but you don’t have to,” Alden responded. “I will accompany you.”
Elinor glanced down at their joined hands. “I’m sorry I lied to you, but I was hiding from my uncle. I couldn’t risk anyone knowing the truth,” she said softly. “I am not quite sure how he found me.”
“That is neither here nor there. Let us go down and face your uncle together,” Alden encouraged, offering her a reassuring smile.
“Together,” Elinor repeated.
As Alden led her from the library, he noticed how visibly tense she was. “It will be all right,” he said.
“You don’t know my uncle,” Elinor replied, her voice trembling.
“Actually, I do know him,” he said. “I studied under him to be a barrister. He was one of the reasons why I decided not to pursue that profession.”
Elinor looked at him in surprise. “I heard he was a shrewd barrister.”
“You could say that,” Alden said. “I didn’t agree with his methods, and we had a falling out because of it.”
Once they reached the top step of the stairs, Alden could see Lord Inglewood standing imposingly in the entry hall below. His nostrils flared with anger, and his dark, piercing eyes locked on to them. He was a tall man with a stern countenance, his presence always commanding respect and fear, traits that were well-established long before he inherited the title of marquess.
Lord Inglewood scoffed, and his voice dripped withdisdain. “It is about time you graced me with your presence, Niece.”
Elinor slipped her hand out of Alden’s as they descended the stairs. “I had not expected you this evening,” she said, her voice steady. “Will you join us for supper?”
“No, I came to see you home,” Lord Inglewood growled, his words more of a command than a statement.
“I am home,” Elinor asserted, a flicker of defiance in her eyes.
Lord Inglewood’s gaze shifted to Alden, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What are you doing here, Mr. Dandridge?”
Alden stood his ground. “My reasons are my own.”
Lord Inglewood’s eyes darted between Alden and Elinor, suspicion etched into his features. “What is going on between you two?”
